


Who's gonna carry you home?

by SoapyPasta



Category: iZombie (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Blaine's a bigger mess, Bliv - Freeform, But maybe there's love there too?, Crying, Cute, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Heavy Drinking, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Liv is a mess, They hate eachother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 16:05:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18898030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoapyPasta/pseuds/SoapyPasta
Summary: Liv has struggled to adapt to new Seattle and the reality of the situation in front of her seems to be too much. Blaine has just lost his father, and his ability to sleep left with him.





	Who's gonna carry you home?

She'd had far too much to drink already, but that wasn't going to stop her, so Liv held a crumbled note between her middle and forefinger, barely lifting her head from the comfort of the bar to mumble a short, "whatever's strongest." She didn't care what was in front of her, as long as it would stop her thinking. She hated thinking.

The idea of paying for a drink seemed alien to her after so long of lying to Tanner about her ability to drink there freely. However, without Peyton by her side she had no excuse for when Blaine inevitably found out, so instead, she paid. Or at least tried to when whoever was behind the bar on that particular day would serve her. On this night she wasn't lucky enough to be greeted by the voice of a dimwit like Tanner. He would've poured her another drink. He always did.

From behind the bar, Don E took the note with a huff before placing it down on the counter in front of her, "Yeah sure, I'll get you whatever you want, whenever you can lift your head long enough to actually meet my eyes." Don wasn't one to turn down business but this shtick was getting far too old. Liv had sat at the very same bar stool every night for a week with one simple aim, getting so drunk she's incapable of ordering anything else. She mumbled in protest before blindly feeling around the bar for the note. Peeling the now sticky note from the once clean surface she made a show of lifting her head.

She waved the money in the air to make a point as she met the irritable bartender's eyes, "Another drink, please." She spoke, drawing out the _'p'_ with an unneeded tone of aggression before, without so much as a hint of subtlety, grasping the edge of the bar in a feeble attempt to stop her body swaying backwards onto the cool tiles below her.

Don E grabbed her shoulder a little too tightly as he tried to hold her steady, "Look, man, I have customers to serve, money to make and you collapsing on the bar every night this week without fail is kinda bumming me out," he removed his hand from her shoulder as she attempted to nudge it away with a shrug. He then watched her closely as he took someone else's order. 

"You know this isn't like you and I'm sure you've got your excuses that, for the record, I couldn't care less about but if you don't call someone to pick you up soon I'm gonna have to go get the boss, and I know you're not exactly the best of pals."

"Right..." she paused, and Don E swore that when he looked at the back of her head as it lay again on the bar he could see the cogs in her mind whirring as she desperately tried to process and reply to what she had just been told.

Don E scoffed, shaking his head softly. He called Tanner across the bar to take over as he made his way to what, if she lifted her head to look, Liv would recognise as Blaine's office.  
He entered without knocking, striding into the office with an air of confidence - or naivety - which suggested it was his own, closing the door behind him he finally spoke up, "Blaine-" though he didn't finish as he realised Blaine was in fact asleep. His head was pressed against his arms, which were folded across his desk. From a distance, Don E mused, he almost resembled Liv's drunken state in a way Blaine would despise if he had known.

It was unusual, to see him asleep like this, he doesn't sleep much at all these days, ' _working through the night is more efficient_ , ' he claims, ' _it's not like I need the sleep, I'm dead.'_ Though even Don E isn't dumb enough to believe this excuse. He doesn't sleep because he can't, at least not usually. The night of the accident at Seattle's wall changed him in a way that was clear to see. He wasn't his usual charming, cocky self and his mind was far too cloudy to come up with snarky responses. In many ways, you could say he's lost everything that made him Blaine. His painfully _Blaine-y_ mannerisms had been watered down to short answers and repeated gestures, void of emotion. ' _Recently_ _I'm scared you'll bore me to death, then I realise I'm already dead.'_ Candy used to joke, followed by an intolerable snort, though his plain approach to everything had begun to rub off on the staff, no one felt like laughing around him much anymore.

With a pained sigh, Don E shook Blaine's shoulder, feeling a pang of guilt for waking him up as he heard a gruff groan in response. Donald didn't ever really feel guilty, that's something Blaine had been feeling a lot recently, seemed that was rubbing off on the staff too.

"Hey dude, sorry to wake you but Miss Moore is drunk out of her mind out there and she isn't listening to me."

"What does that have to do with me, Don?" Blaine grunted in an uninterested fashion, rubbing his face as though he can swipe away his exhaustion. It was fair to say he didn't really look like himself anymore either, his spray tan was fading and for the first time since he'd turned he made no effort to cover it, freckles of ivory streaking across his face and exposed forearms and even for a zombie his skin seemed unnaturally pale - as though he was always on the cusp of going _full-on-zombie_. The darkening bags under his eyes added to this deathly look and his unkempt hair didn't help. He looked as though he hadn't eaten in days and Don E couldn't help but wonder when was the last time he'd actually seen him eat. After concluding it had been at least three days he began to worry whether he should've come to him for help at all.

"Well, it's the sixth time this week and..." He mumbled awkwardly.

Blaine's interest seemed to peak at that, "she's been here every day this week?" he asked with a sudden burst of concern that didn't seem to fit his voice at all.

"Yeah but it's fine I'll call-"

"Bring her here yeah?"  
The request shouldn't have really come as a surprise, it had always been obvious that despite everything Blaine had a soft spot for Liv, though it still seemed strange how willing he was to let it show now.

Don E compiled, backing out of the office and walking around the bar to carefully shake Liv in the same way he had Blaine moments earlier. "Hey Liv, " he mumbled, consciously keeping quiet as to not to worsen the headache he was sure she must be experiencing about now. "Can you stand?"  
She mumbled an unintelligible response Don took as a blatant no so he wrapped his arm under hers and pulled her up off the stool, leaning her against the bar as she swayed.

"I don't want to go home yet." She slurred defiantly as she shoved him lightly.

"I'm not taking you home Liv, I'm taking you to Blaine."

"I don't-"

"Yeah well, he wants to see you." He held her weight against him as he took slow steps toward the office, pushing the door open with his foot to see a now alert Blaine stand up from his desk. "Jesus" he muttered under his breath as he walked over and replaced Don E's arm with his own, nodding at him to leave. Liv, incapable of voicing her annoyance at being in Blaine's surprisingly warm arms, leaned against him to steady herself as she was hit by a sudden burst of nausea. _At least if I'm sick I'll get some on him,_ she thought to herself as her legs wobbled.

"Christ Liv. How much have you drank?" he led her to the chair across the desk from his own which she ungracefully slumped into.

"None of your business," she grunted, struggling to keep her head up straight as she shot him a wide-eyed glare which made her look more vulnerable than angry.

"What you do inside this bar is my business Liv...especially when it's leaving you in this state." He took a moment to look her over, his features pulling into a tight frown.  
She was wearing a revealing blouse that in any other circumstance he'd have spun a crude joke about, though much like every other day since his dad's death he didn't feel much like joking. Her face seemed almost as drained of life as his, missing her annoyingly joyful demeanour, he wondered whether she'd been missing as much sleep as he had. Maybe that's what the alcohol is for, maybe she aimed to send herself into a drunken coma.

The truth is she wasn't really sure why she was drinking any more, partly it was to fill the void left by Levon, partly to drown out her guilt - something her and Blaine seemed to have in common - and partly because of the pressure the title _'Renegade'_ had brought with it. Honestly, she didn't really feel cut out for it anymore, she had come to the grim conclusion that she brought more death than life to this world and now she was expected to play the hero. It gave her life purpose before, being the good guy, she figured helping people is what made everything worthwhile. Now nothing felt worthwhile.

"You can't run a bar then complain when people drink in it Blaine," She snapped, "that's like me having a boyfriend and complaining when they die. The reality is I shouldn't even expect them to live."

Blaine physically cringed at her self deprecating tone, noting that even an attack at him turned into an attack on herself. She loved to attack him and the feeling had always been gleefully recipricated. Not now.

"It's not your fault you know. We are living in a dangerous world and you've been thrown in at the deep end, we all have, the people around us are bound to get hurt." There was some irony in the fact that it was Blaine giving this speech given the amount of time his staff- his friends had tried to tell him Angus dying wasn't his fault. And that, even if it was, the old bastard deserved it.

"You're right, it's not my fault, you turned me into a monster, you killed Lowell, you're what caused this world to be so dangerous. You Blaine. You're the problem." She snarled with an accuracy to her words that was impressive in her given state.

He swallowed hard as the venom in her voice caused a pang of pain in his chest. "Liv...I-I'm sorry." His voice came out soaked in genuine guilt that Liv hadn't experienced before, a guilt she refused to believe was real.

She scoffed, "you've gotten better at acting I'll give you that, really let yourself go in every other department though." She gestures to the tired mask that replaced his face, "decided you're too good for sleep now Blaine? Makes sense, you clearly think you're too good for everything else, too good for guilt."

He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find anything to say, a sense of overwhelming remorse building in him that made him want to break down and cry. He shook his head, letting out a shaky laugh before retorting with equal venom. "Is that really what you think Liv? That I'm incapable of feeling emotion?" He laughed a little louder now, his tone becoming cold as his guilt was replaced with fiery anger.

"Fuck you." He growled, "Fuck you, Olivia Moore, you're the one who thinks you're untouchable on your damn high horse, parading around like a hero. I'm a shitty person, but at least I admit it, I don't walk around pretending to be someone I'm not Liv. You fuck everything up but no one bats an eyelid because you pretend to care about every little issue in the world. You're no better than any of us Liv. You're selfish, needy, desperate for approval-" he gets cut off by the sound of a loud sob shattering his anger, replacing it with a familiar pit in his stomach. "Liv." He mutters breathlessly as he pushes himself up out if his chair and kneels down on the floor beside her.

"Liv, " he repeats, placing a cautious hand near the bottom of her thigh, "Liv look I'm sorry."

She shakes her head and cries, rocking slightly in her chair as she hides her face. "You're right, I'm selfish, I am, I don't want to do this anymore. Any of it, I just want to live my life, I-" she cut herself off with another shaky sob, burrowing her head further into her hands as Blaine sighed, rubbing slow circles on her leg in hopes of calming her slightly.

"No one would blame you if you quit Liv, not even for a second, you're human- well... _anyway_ , you're allowed to have your own life, to need a break. You've done enough." He frowned as he watched her, now understanding why she's been spending her nights at the bar.

Her voice cracked as she whimpered, she'd been told this time and time again from her friends but somehow hearing it from Blaine was more reassuring. She wouldn't want to admit that of course, seeing the irony in being comforted by a man like Blaine. But the way his hand moved gently against the skin beneath her jeans made breathing a little easier and she found herself praying he didn't stop as she continued to cry into her hands.

"I didn't mean what I said you know?" He continued, "I was just- I was angry Liv because I do feel guilt and I hate it because it's overwhelming and I know I deserve it but I mean, God just look at me. I'm a fucking mess and its okay if you are too because I'm in no place judge." He squeezed his eyes shut, his features scrunching together as he took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions.

It's in this moment Liv takes the time to peak through her hands to look at him and realises just how broken he looks. How raw and honest he's being and it shatters something inside of her because right then and there he isn't Blaine DeBeers. He's a whole other being entirely, one capable of feeling things the Blaine she knew never could. That's when she figures she never really knew Blaine DeBeers, in that moment she figures there's a chance no one does, not even himself, not anymore. Yet here he is, revealing himself to her in a way she didn't deem possible. She wasn't sure she could cope with this new revelation as it began to eat her up inside, the idea that the man kneeling down in front of her, he has a heart, and he's pouring it out at her feet.

Blaine raised his head and opened his eyes to meet Liv's when he realised her sobbing had calmed to out of time breathing,  
"Are you okay?" He bit his lip awkwardly as his hand retreated from her leg, "I crossed the line and my stupid mouth just doesn't know when to stop moving sometimes. A blessing and a curse I guess."

"Blaine shut up its fine; I needed to hear it...even if I didn't particularly want to." She flashes him a weak excuse for a smile as he seems to study her face a little too intently for her liking.  
She sniffles and he stands.  
He reaches and grabs a grey box of tissues from his desk, handing it out to her with a grin.

"Is it too late to offer you one of these?" He coined the question in a tone he hadn't found himself speaking in a lot lately. As he said it he noted how, for once, he sounded like himself. And despite herself, Liv laughed in a way that could've stopped Blaine's heart.

"No it's not, thank you," Liv spoke as she tugged a tissue from the cardboard prison it was held in and brought it to her face, hoping to blot away the red puffiness she worried had begun to stem from the inner corners of her eyes.

In this situation Blaine didn't really know what to do but he settled for leaning back against his desk and watching her awkwardly, his eyes spinning off to other sections of the room he pretended to be fascinated with when he felt he'd stared at her too long. The liquor cabinet, which seemed redundant when he had a bar full of alcohol at his disposal right outside the door it stood next to. The big, raven coloured, wooden bookshelf which held more trinkets than books. A small globe with a painted gold base sat on the shelf he was at eye length with. Of course, he'd seen it before - every time he walked in the room, then every time he walked out again - but he gazed as though it was a new feature, as though there was something spectacular about the tacky piece that only his eye could see.

When Liv had finished patting down her face with the plush paper the air around them seemed to still and the room felt soul-crushingly awkward. What does one say in this situation? Liv's sobbing seemed to bring about a newly found sobriety and it had finally dawned on her just who she was crying to. How had she been so oblivious? She thought, _he's toying with me, I bet he wanted to laugh as he watched me cry. Creep. Though,_ she digressed, _he did seem strangely sincere - and the way he looks, it's not normal._

"Blaine?" She spoke up finally, her voice loud in the quiet room; she cringed. His eyes trailed back to her from the globe as he hummed a quick "hmm?"

"Have you, erm, been sleeping?" The question was asked in a hesitant voice, one that made it clear she wasn't sure she should be asking.

His face contorted into an expression she didn't quite understand, was he offended? Or annoyed to be caught out on his poor habits?  
He reluctantly, after thinking for a while too long muttered, "I was asleep before you got here, I mean I didn't intend on sleeping but, judging by the fact Don E shook me awake I'd say I was out cold. So yes, I have _been sleeping_ Liv." He repeated her words with a hint of bitterness that suggested he wasn't giving her the entire truth.

"...And eating?" She continued with a knowing look.

"You're not my shrink Liv, in fact, tonight I'd say it's been more like I'm yours." He shrugged off the question in annoyance.

"Blaine, there's a chance you look worse than I do right now and that's saying something. What happened?"

"What is it I said about you not being my shrink? Besides, you know what happened, everyone in this world knows what happened Liv." He pushes himself up from the desk so he's stood straight.

"What, your _dad_?" She laughed in a way that sounded harsher than she's intended, almost mocking, though surely he couldn't blame her. Angus McDonough was in fact evil. Why would he mourn him?

"No, I'm upset over Chase Graves, what do you think Liv?" He hissed sarcastically, defensively.

"Blaine you can't seriously be in this state over Angus, judging by what I've heard he was one hell of a shitty person and an even shitter father."

Blaine rolled his eyes; sure he was shitty, no one could deny that, but after all, he was still Blaine's dad. He had spent his time of insanity trying to make things up to his son. Granted, it took brains raining down from heaven for him to feel remorse - but he felt it. Blaine didn't doubt that and that's exactly what ate him up inside. The same _'miracle'_ that brought him a somewhat caring father figure is also the one that sent him to his death. And Blaine? He was the catalyst, no, he was more than that, he was the cause. At least in his mind, he had caused his father's downfall.

"You can't be losing sleep over him, and what is starving yourself going to slove? Do you really think it'll bring him back?" She scrunched her face up in confusion, an expression Blaine would've found cute if he wasn't so caught up in his annoyance.

"You don't get it Liv, " He snapped, "I killed him, he died because of me, me Liv." He poked himself in the chest to put emphasis on his statement.

"He died because of his own delusions Blaine, and even if this was somehow your fault, don't think for a second he didn't deserve it." Liv tried to reassure him as best she could, _of all the people you've killed, this is the one you decide to grow a conscience for?_ She questioned in her mind, partly irritated, partly worried.

"Delusions I caused, I just, I ruin everything, don't I? He finally cared about me and I sentenced him to death. Why did I have to fuck this up?" It was clear he was getting more distressed than Olivia would have liked as he swung his hands in varying directions as he spoke.

"Blaine, it took believing you were some sort of _'_ zombie Jesus' for him to care about you, he didn't feel guilty, he was a _monster_ and don't you dare think otherwise for another second. The world is better off without him, we all are."

He sniffled, biting back tears as he looked at her. So determined to prove him wrong, like always, but this time it was for his own wellbeing. Her jaw was clenched as she stared at him, refusing to look away, trying to show him how serious he was. She prayed he'd crack under the pressure of her gaze, and he did.

He cast his own gaze down to the floor, biting at his lip as he rubbed his arm, "I guess, I mean..."

Olivia saw an opportunity so she stood, catching his arm just below his shoulder in her right hand, squeezing softly, "Blaine, " she whispered just loud enough to draw his eyes up from the ground. However, as he looked at her his breath caught in his throat because, just two inches away from him Liv's wide, curious eyes burned into his own, glistening with a look of worry he never thought he'd get to see from that face. A look he swore he didn't deserve.

"Liv." He replied, his pulse racing as he watched her and he swore if he'd have paid more attention he would've felt his pupils blow up in size as he glanced down at her lips. As he opened his mouth to speak nothing but a heavy breath came out, his eyes flickering across her face.

Whatever it was he felt building in the pit of his stomach she seemed to feel too as her eye movements almost mirrored his own. With a shaky breath, she leaned in and the last thought that crossed Blaine's mind before their lips met was that there was only one possible way this could be happening - when Don E walked into his office earlier in the day, he couldn't have woken him up.


End file.
